


right here (comfort)

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You miss him,” she says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right here (comfort)

**Author's Note:**

> Some platonic Jean and Charles bonding, after _X-Men: Apocalypse_.

The professor hides his true feelings very well from most students, but he can't hide everything from Jean. Now, after he called on her to save him and the world, it’s as if the door’s never fully closed.

She knows he doesn’t mean to light up their connection like he’s set off a flare; he’s deeply asleep right now. Purposefully or not, he calls to her, and she answers. But not by speaking to him from across the mansion; she also knows that’s not what he needs right now. 

Silent, she walks the halls to his room, hair loose, long flannel gown under her chenille robe. She has soft slippers on against the cold, hard wooden floor. 

Mr. Lehnsherr—very few people at the school call him “Erik”—left for his own reasons weeks ago after longer weeks of living in the mansion. The professor had clearly been happy to have Mr. Lehnsherr here, often biting back a smile that threatened to split his face. These days, even though they parted temporarily and on good terms, there are smudges under his eyes and the set of his mouth is soft; melancholy rolls off him in waves.

While anyone could see that the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr are close, only Jean can see how close, or what he means to the professor. 

Tonight, he’s been dreaming of him: dreams filled with delight, intense love, passion, and anger. Dreams that woke her up, left her blushing. She’d fallen asleep once more only to be awakened again by his mind, this time calling for her, whether he knew it or not.

When she steps into his bedroom, he’s still asleep, and the sight of him in bed against blue sheets is strange; she’s never been here before, never seen him sleeping and vulnerable, at least not since that day in Cairo. 

He’s bald now, in marked contrast to how he looked when she first arrived, but he’s still handsome. He frowns in his sleep, brow furrowing, and opens his eyes as she approaches.

“Professor,” she says softly.

Blinking, he sits up; embarrassed, he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. She sees he’s wearing dark blue satin pajamas, and hides a smile; trust the professor to dress nicely for bed. No old t-shirts for him, whether there’s anyone here to see or not.

“Jean. I’m…. I’m sorry, did I…. Did I call you?” He runs a hand over his bald head, a habit from when he had hair, and sighs, agitated yet resigned. “I’m terribly sorry, accidental, I assure you. Do… do go on back to bed, you need your sleep,” he adds as she walks toward the bed, and out of her slippers. She unbelts her robe and watches his eyes widen as she takes it off, draping it over a chair. “Jean—”

“You need me here,” she says, and gets on the professor’s large, sumptuous bed. Sitting on the feather bed is like sinking into a cloud.

The professor doesn’t say anything to that. He sits back, and looks at her. She can feel his hesitation, his wariness, but she can also tell he agrees with her. 

“I’ll sleep here. It’s fine,” she says, and he regards her; he’s put up his basic shields, and she doesn’t press further to find out exactly what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t tell her to leave. “You want someone here with you.” 

He doesn’t contradict her, and instead looks at her for a long time without saying anything. “All right. But it’s cold, get under the covers,” he finally says, lifting them. 

There’s a pocket of warmth under the covers with him, and she pulls the sheets, blankets, and feather bed up over them again to preserve it against the cool air of the bedroom. Head on the pillow next to his, she faces him, and waits for him to turn to face her. When he does, she takes his hand. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, briefly squeezing her fingers.

“You miss him,” she says.

He blinks, startled, caught off guard—funny, for a telepath as powerful as he is to be caught off guard, but she doesn’t laugh. “Yes,” he finally admits, slowly, with a sigh. “I do.”

“It’s fine, Professor. I know what he means to you.”

He blinks again, looking alarmed for a second, then wry. “I— Yes, I suppose you do.”

“You don’t want to be alone right now.”

He looks at the ceiling, and closes his eyes. “I do not,” he admits. “I just…. He’s coming back soon enough, but…. The amount of time he and I have had together is so precious, and it’s nothing compared to the amount of time we’ve spent apart. I…. I can feel him when he’s near, I can find him with Cerebro, I’ve been in his mind, it’s just….” He takes a deep breath and says the rest in a rush, blinking at the ceiling. “Sometimes a mental connection isn’t enough. Sometimes I need that… that physical contact. To be reminded he’s real.” His brow furrows and he blinks, biting his lip, a sudden dart of anguish coming from him. She winces, and shifts closer. He continues. “It’s important to know someone’s with you.”

“Yes,” she says, quiet. She might not have much to say, but she can listen.

“The…. The isolation, of being psionic. It’s ironic, isn’t it?” He smiles at her, sad, and she clasps his hand with both of hers, nestling it under her chin. More relaxed now, he continues. “I met another telepath once, long ago—well, I say ‘met’ but she was more or less trying to kill Erik. That was the same day I met him, actually.” 

Jean suddenly feels the cold of the ocean in her bones, again—the memory of the professor meeting Mr. Lehnsherr is one she’s familiar with, worn around the edges like a photograph kept in a shirt pocket over the heart and frequently looked at. 

“That telepath was… something. She had some tricks up her sleeve I hadn’t even thought of yet; she could even project herself.” He still sounds fascinated, twenty years later. Jean sees a beautiful woman with gleaming platinum blonde hair, dressed to perfection in all white and adorned with diamonds, with a sharp, mocking expression. 

He sighs. “She had no subtlety about her, no qualms about using her powers for herself, for mercenary purposes. She did what she had to do to survive, and enjoyed a good bit of it, I imagine. She was loyal to whomever had the most power as she saw it.” 

The professor looks into her eyes with sudden intensity, searching, imploring. “I don’t want that for you, Jean. I don’t want you to isolate yourself that way. She could turn herself into diamonds—she was like a glittering ice cube. You’re so warm, Jean. You burn like a flame. I don’t want you to ever lose that.” 

With his free hand, he strokes her hair, and she knows he’s thinking of how it looks, spread out on his pillows like liquid fire between them. He cups her jaw and kisses her forehead, and it’s almost as though he’s kissing her mind. She smiles at the thought, and knows he’s smiling too.

“Right,” he says, “back to sleep.” She releases his hand. “Jean, in penance for having awakened you, may I….” The professor touches his temple, and she knows he wants to help her fall asleep. It’s true that full nights of sleep have eluded her since her powers manifested, and she’s quick to nod in agreement, grateful.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and then she’s asleep.

She wakes to the sound of birdsong, and the dim light of dawn. She’s pushed off some covers in the night; although the rest of the room is cold, the professor is like a furnace. He’s sound asleep, his back to her; she’s been nestled in close behind him. She wonders if he and Mr. Lehnsherr sleep like this, when Mr. Lehnsherr is here, but doesn’t probe his mind to find out. With what she knows, just the thought of Mr. Lehnsherr sleeping as if to protect the professor’s back is sad, and now is not the time for sad thoughts. The professor’s mind is as peaceful as her own of the past few hours was, thanks to him. 

For a moment, she wonders if someone will find her here in the professor’s bed, but of course that’s impossible. Very few minds in the mansion are even awake right now. It would, however, be an inopportune time for Mr. Lehnsherr to return, and despite how intimidating he can be she can’t help a smile of amusement at the thought.

It was possible, however, that he wouldn’t mind, even if he might raise a brow at the appearance of impropriety of an eighteen-year-old student in the professor’s bed. But if he loved the professor even half as much as the professor loved him, he could hardly begrudge him having someone there to help him sleep, particularly if he, Mr. Lehnsherr, was the reason the professor was upset. 

Jean put an arm over the professor, and felt him pause, sigh, and shift back against her. She kissed the back of his head, light as a feather, and felt him relax once more. 

She drifted back to sleep too—the mansion was still quiet, and it was warm under the covers—until the professor stirred under her arm, turning himself to face her. “Jean,” he said, groggy, sounding surprised, then contrite as he continued. “You ought to get back to your room, dearest, and get ready for the day. It’s Saturday, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ve a lot to do, and I really must get started on my morning routine—I’m sorry to have kept you.” 

Jean pushed the covers back. “It’s all right, Professor,” she said, getting out of his bed and finding her robe. As she put it on and belted it, she put on her slippers. “We both needed a good night’s sleep.”

He smiled at her, genuine and warm, less tired around the eyes than he’d been. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you, Jean. Again.”

She smiled back, and shrugged. The professor felt more at peace now, and by extension, so did she. For a little while, at least. And that was thanks enough.

At the door, she turned and said, “If you need me again, you know how to reach me.” 

The professor chuckled. “Yes, I do. Have a lovely day, Jean.”


End file.
